


To Give You Hope (And a Future)

by katydidmischief (cassiejamie)



Series: Banished [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, D/s, Established Relationship, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiejamie/pseuds/katydidmischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're not perfect, and sometimes they're all a little bit more than broken, but there's four of them now.  And that's the way it's going to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_They were never quite sure what happened to Gabriel after his fight with Lucifer. Kali goes back to the motel, and when she returns, she tells them he's dead, that his vessel bled out with two huge, black ash wings a shadow on the floor. (She'd cried when she'd told them and sometimes Dean wonders if she really did love Gabriel, once.) Dean doesn't buy it, even when they watch the DVD a day and a half later on the dusty roadside two states away._

_So he prays to Gabriel when Sam's not listening, half-hoping the brat hasn't actually gotten himself killed._

;;

  


They bunk down in motel rooms, squat in barely-acceptable houses; they sleep in the car when absolutely necessary, but with four people the latter option is a last resort where it'd once been Dean's first choice.

It's difficult to get comfortable, even if it's warm enough that Sam will clamber up onto the roof of the Impala with a pillow and Castiel's trenchcoat thereby freeing up some space in the backseat for the other three: Gabriel still ends up with a crick in his neck, Cas still bitches ("I'm not bitching," he says, with air quotes, "I'm simply noting the impracticality of..." and Dean cuts him off with a look, "Backseat shuts his piehole!") about his knees, and Dean says nothing about the headache starting behind his eyes because even he can't cram into the seat right anymore.

So he lets Sam use that ridiculous app on the phone, the one that can direct them to the nearest lodgings, after their latest case wraps up and he steers the Impala toward the motel. The blank looking clerk there metes out their room options—the same as they are every place else on the planet, two queens or a king—and adds they have roll-aways when he sees the ragged looking Gabriel drag himself from the Impala's backseat.

"Two queens," Dean answers. "You got extra blankets and pillows?"

"'s a fee."

"Whatever."

The guy runs the card Sam hands him, thinking that J. McClane sounds familiar but not sure why, before handing over a bag from behind the desk and two sets of keys. Then he goes back to his magazine, busty asians looking back with their own bored expressions.

The room itself is... well, there's an unidentifiable stain on the ceiling that Cas zooms in on and makes faces at, and Gabriel goes to investigate the bathroom; Sam is elated to find that this one has a small kitchenette complete with a working mini-fridge. He points it out to Dean with a grin, telling his brother, "If you'll get the bed set up, I'll run down to the diner, grab whatever looks good to go?"

"Pie," Dean grunts back as he nods.

He's tired and sore, his shoulder reminding him of his last ER visit when that doc had told him to take it easy. "Too many more hits and you're going to need surgery," she'd said, but Dean had shrugged it off and now he rubs at it to ease the muscle, opening the bag from the kid at the check-in desk one-handed.

The linens inside are the shade of gray that comes from too many washings; they look a little threadbare but that's always how they are, and Dean inspects the first sheet to drape into his hands for holes. Satisfied, he sets about making a bed fit for four: he strips the beds down to the mattresses, then lifts the mattresses free, tucks the chairs and coffee table into the valley between the two beds, and shifts the mattresses to the cleared space. He expertly covers them in the sheets, then dumps the blankets and pillows into a pile at the center. _One bed fit for four members of the Winchester Den of Inquity _, he thinks.__

Cas had disappeared into the bathroom during the process, and only once Dean's finished does he reappear with Gabriel in tow.

He won't look at Dean and goddamnit, Dean really is too tired for this tonight—they've been going for days, chasing that Leviathan down—all he wants is some sleep. "Gabriel," he says, voice rough and worn from exhaustion.

Gabriel still doesn't look up, just shuffles a little in place. Dean resists the urge to look up and rail at the God that'd resurrected this man, this Archangel, only to leave Gabriel at the mercy of his brothers and sisters amid a war. To rail at God for leaving an Archangel to fight so violently against his own kin for a position He should have been filling...

Dean shakes his head, forcing himself to open his eyes and look to the man now kneeling, tip of his tongue between taut lips as Gabriel eyes the zipper on Dean's bluejeans. It's nothing new, this need of Gabriel's to reaffirm his belonging through sex, but Dean truly is exhausted. They all are.

"Please," Gabriel murmurs, leaning in to nuzzle at Dean's crotch through the denim.

Dean huffs a breath—he wants to say no, he really does, only Castiel's giving him _the_ look and that's all Dean needs to relent. "Hands behind your back, boy," Dean orders in the voice Gabriel has never disobeyed, and reaches down to undo his fly.

Vaguely, Dean hears the rustle of cloth when Castiel moves away, sheds his trenchcoat and jacket; he notes the clicks of the door as it opens and closes and the noise of plastic when Sam returns with dinner. His attention, however, is solely on the Archangel sucking and licking at the cotton of Dean's briefs, wetting the fabric until it's sopping and Dean's cock is beginning to harden.

"So good, boy." Dean strokes a hand through Gabriel's hair, pulling him away just long enough for Dean to free his cock, then guides Gabriel back.

He doesn't say anything else as Gabriel strokes him, loops his fingers around the base of Dean's cock and licks at the head, though he keeps his fingers in Gabriel's hair, petting him in jerky, awkward movements. It's Sam who joins them there, on their makeshift bed, with the words that make Gabriel brighten. Sam who murmurs, "Good, so good... letting Dean use your mouth, look beautiful like this," into Gabriel's ear once Sam is behind him, knees on either side of Gabriel's own.

Slowly, Dean begins to rock on his heels and Gabriel holds himself steady; Gabriel's falling into his submission as surely as Dean floats into his own Dominance. (The exhaustion has finally ebbed away, left him feeling awake and bright, needing to mark Gabriel lest any of the Holy Host come looking for him.)

Sam loves watching this part: Gabriel finally relaxing out of his state of hypersensitivity, leaning back into Sam's embrace with Gabriel's hands crushed between them and his jaw lax, and Dean's shoulders straightening, his stance widening before sliding his hands to either side of Gabriel's head. Holds him there with a touch that's firm but Gabriel could pull out of if he absolutely needed to, though he never has.

"Beautiful." Sam runs a hand down Gabriel's flank, crushes the heel of his other hand into his own cock to keep from coming too soon; fingers slide down his cheek and when Sam blinks up from the sight of Gabriel's lips stretched wide and swelling over Dean's shaft, Sam finds himself being kissed quite soundly by Castiel. "Beautiful," he repeats, eyes locked on Cas'.

Dean watches as Cas and Sam kiss again, then lets his gaze slide back to Gabriel. Fuck, but Gabriel's looking back with that dreamy expression, the one that means he'd take anything that Dean would give him tonight—even if Dean denied him release—and Dean nearly comes himself, right on the spot. He slides free of Gabriel's mouth, circling his cock with his thumb and forefinger until the need passes, and then glides back in, sliding over Gabriel's tongue in one smooth movement.

He nods at Sam and Cas a moment later, glad they understand what he's telling them when two hands slip past the undone waistband of Gabriel's trousers, one in front and one behind, and touch him in all the right places.

"Wonderful boy," Sam says, "You're perfect, Gabriel."

Gabriel whimpers at that praise, seemingly starting to rise out of his headspace; Dean thrusts hard, feeling Gabriel gag around him, but it regains the archangel's attention and he's back to looking dreamy and debauched and so very sinful.

Dean runs a hand along the taut stretch of Gabriel's jaw, and tells him, voice rough, "They were liars, Gabriel, your brothers. You're the good one." He licks over his lips, wishing he had Sam's way with words as he feels his balls pulling up. "You're good and you're mine."

There's no outward sign that Gabriel's understood—that will come later, when his mind plays over this coupling and he recognizes the words as more than sweet-nothings—but he whimpers prettily as Dean draws back enough to paint his face with streaks of come before Gabriel himself relents under the pressure of Sam's fingers in his ass, Castiel's fingers on his cock.

;;

  
 _When they decide to go through with this utterly stupid plan—Dean letting Sam jump into the damned hole—Dean prays twice as hard to Gabriel. Maybe he's hoping the Archangel will appear and say, "I got this," before taking his brother down so Dean won't have to see Sam turn into something so wrong. Maybe he's hoping Gabriel will hand over the Blade and let Dean off the Morning Star himself._

_Whatever the motivation, they're in the eleventh hour, with Lucifer riding Sam and Michael preening inside Adam, and Dean's desperate for any help he can get. He just hadn't known the state that Gabriel would be in, weak and thin, but wanting nothing more than to stop the Apocalypse._

_"Dad was right," he tells them when they ask for a reason, "This place is better... humans are better. And I don't want them to start creating Paradise—they wouldn't know where to start."_

;;

  
He wakes a little while later, and Castiel's stripped down to boxers that Dean had to have bought for him with the multi-colored comical hearts; he's got his arms wrapped around Gabriel in a grip that'd take an entire Garrison to peel them apart. Sam and Dean are on either side, backs against the sofa currently serving as their headboard with styrofoam boxes open in each of their laps.

"Oh, come on, like that's even possible!" Dean's yelling at the screen.

Sam rolls his eyes in response and stuffs a piece of chicken in his mouth, glancing down to see that Gabriel's looking back. It earns Gabriel a soft smile and, once Sam drops his fork, a caress, both of which Gabriel pulls a face at.

"Feeling normal again?" Sam asks.

Gabriel shrugs, typical response to a question he doesn't want to answer. (He's an Archangel and he likes that he can submit with these men, but he draws the line at talking about feelings. He draws the line at talking about what's led him to this place where he'd rather be tucked up in the middle of of Winchester sandwich than reigning over the forces of Heaven now that his brothers are gone.)

"Want to eat? I got like one of everything the diner had." Sam gestures toward the stack of containers taking up the entirety of the kitchenette's table. All shapes and sizes, Gabriel figures somewhere in there is the coveted stack of chocolate chip pancakes that he and Castiel are well-known to fight over and Dean always ends up splitting in half to keep the two Angels from breaking out the swords. It's also the only thing, as of late, that Gabriel has had an appetite for; he figures Sam's buried it in the hopes that something else might tempt him.

It's a decent try too, as Gabriel has to open and view the contents of every last box on his search for buttery-chocolate-sweet-delicious pancakes. Nothing grabs hold of his stomach, though, and demands he eat it, and after another few minutes, he finds the powdered sugar-dusted pancakes and a fork and the little tubs of syrup. He's in the process of peeling back the foil on one of the latter when Sam appears at his side.

Containers are shifted once more and then Sam's holding up a piece of fruit speared by a fork. "Just a few pieces," he says, "Please."

It's a command. Politely worded, but a command.

"I don't want fruit."

"I know you don't, but you can't live on pancakes and chocolate milk. You need the vitamins, Gabriel."

Gabriel glares. It is not a reminder he needs, that he's both Human and Angel right now; that he is bound by the human needs for food and warmth and shelter just as he is bound by the laws of his Father. He has been Banished to live here, Grace intact but denied the powers he's had since his Creation and denied his home, and he hates it. "I've been living fine..."

"Either you eat some fruit, or I will do whatever I have to to get it in you," Sam states: a promise, not a threat. (He may not be the Dom in this group, but he is just as forceful as Dean when he needs to be. And right now? He needs to be because Gabriel dying of malnutrition after all of this is not going to happen.)

Grudgingly, he opens his mouth and allows Sam to feed him. "Don't like pineapple," he says, and eyes the cantaloupe Sam fishes out. "Better."

Sam feeds him every last piece of cantaloupe in the container, and most of the honeydew, before he declares that it's enough for now and Gabriel scoops up his precious pancakes. He settles back into the bed, this time closer to Dean, and begins cutting into the stack, pouring syrup over the squares he makes. He engages in a fork battle with Castiel before he gets a bite in his mouth, making him grin as Cas makes a valiant effort to get some but never quite manages to get any past his lips.

"Knock it off," Dean warns when a piece of pancake lands on his arm with a wet, sticky smack. "Cas!"

The Angel stops: the arguments as of late over pancakes haven't actually been over who got to eat them—they could always order more—but simply about Cas teasing his big brother. Enjoying the company of someone who understands what it is like to be here with Sam and with Dean as a Human and an agent of Heaven. (It got lonely before and Castiel will do whatever he needs to in order to ensure Gabriel stays, make sure Gabriel is happy.)

Gabriel sticks his tongue out in victory and digs in, never seeing Dean's eyes roll.

"Aren't you like a couple millenia old?"

"Birth of Creation."

Dean makes a face, and says, "And you're still acting like a five year old?"

"Hey, time doesn't pass the same in Heaven as it does on Earth. I might actually _be_ five years old," Gabriel answers once he's swallowed. (He's a hot mess right now, but he does have some manners.) "I'd have to check with Dad."

Cas flinches, then tries to hide the motion in a stretch: Gabriel, cast aside and spurned, still talks about their Father so casually it never fails to catch Castiel off-guard. And each time, despite the affection coloring Gabriel's words, Castiel can't help but feel a little bit angry, a little bit sad—he wouldn't be welcomed in Heaven, true, yet Cas chose this when he rebelled and Gabriel hadn't. This was Gabriel's only real choice.

A piece of pancake lands on his forehead.

Gabriel smirks. "Thinking is highly overrated," he tells Castiel, as he leans over to lick the morsel off of Cas' skin.

;;

  
 _By the time Dean arrives at the battleground, that horrid spit of land in Lawrence, there are four Archangels ready to fight; they're watching and gauging and Dean's sure, when he sees the first Blade emerge, that this is going to end in blood._

_What he finds out, though, is this: for all that the Winchesters have underestimated Gabriel, his own brothers are worse. They never see him coming, never see how he manipulates them all, with Michael dispatched back to Heaven by Castiel and Dean pulling Sam back from the edge long enough to get Raphael there._

_They never see how he's gotten them all into the perfect position for the world to continue on, just as humanity has been, by sending Raphael into the Cage along side Lucifer, promising Sam the entire drop that Gabriel would do everything in his power to get Sam out._

_He chants, "I'll save you," long after the ground is closed up._

;;

  
Morning comes too early—as always—and Dean blinks at the clock. Bobby's not due to call about Leviathan leads for another couple of hours, but it's too late to fall back to sleep; Sam's already out on his morning run, and Gabriel's up, secreted himself away in the bathroom.

"Your brother is such a pretty boy," he says.

Castiel had curled around Dean once Gabriel and Sam had left the bed, and he makes a noise at Dean's statement that's a combination of "Yes, he is," and "Shut the fuck up, I'm sleeping." It's typical and Dean just kisses Cas' forehead and begins to extricate himself, planning to join Gabriel in the shower.

These are the days that Dean lives for, though the likelihood of him ever admitting it are low: when there's no hunt yet and nowhere they absolutely have to be, when they can relax and rest and Dean doesn't have to worry because all three of his boys are within sight and reach. It helps that these are the days when Dean can spend a little more time with Gabriel, work on drawing out the person Gabriel used to be from under the haze.

Because, to be clear, the person that'd been with them last night, while it was Gabriel in every way, had a terrible habit of disappearing. Of being hidden under layers of crap, until Dean put Gabriel over his knee and broke through it all. (Castiel has tried to explain before about Angelic reactions and thought processes and all sorts of issues like that, but Dean knows what works and he's sticking to it.)

He's halfway out from under Castiel's octopus-like hold when the Angel suddenly flares awake and rolls over Dean, pushing him into the mattress. Cas blinks at him a few times, then speaks, "Something is wrong," and gets to his feet with such speed Dean almost wonders if he missed the flutter of wings.

Castiel is in the bathroom moments later, breath held tight in his lungs. He's scared of what he might find when he pulls the curtain back and realizes, not for the first time, how utterly terrifying it is to be this dependent on someone else's presence, and how badly it'd break him if Gabriel was suddenly gone. But Gabriel is there, slumped against the grimy wall of the bathtub, looking a little worse for wear.

He glances down into the tub and sees what's got Gabriel worked up enough that Cas could sense it in the other room: feathers are littered in the tub, red and gold in wet piles at Gabriel's feet.

"They're still there, right?" Gabriel asks when Cas looks up, and Cas nods—Gabriel's wings are intact, tight against the Archangel's back. They're patchy and sparse, like a bird during a particularly rough molt, and Castiel's own wings flinch at the sight; he growls as he strips down to his underwear and slides under the water.

A primary falls and Gabriel buries his face in Castiel's neck.

"They will return."

Gabriel nods half-heartedly because yes, he knows the feathers will grow in again. He also knows that this... shed has been brought on by his own hand—Gabriel has ignored his wings as he's ignored everything else related to Heaven and its constructs. If he continues to do so, eventually, his wings will become hidden from even his sight and they are his last link, aside from Castiel, to their home.

"You cannot keep doing this," Castiel tells him, one hand gliding from hip to shoulder and back. "It will be a surer death than a Blade and I will not lose you."

"You sound like Sam."

"Sam is... protective and loyal. He is a proper brother."

"Yeah. Yeah." Gabriel sighs as he forces himself to find that last reserve of energy, tap into it, and stand under his own power. "You wouldn't know what to do without me anymore, would you?"

Castiel, ever truthful, shakes his head because he wouldn't. They've come entirely too far to not be at each others' side, Angel and Archangel, and Cas reaches out not only to steady Gabriel but to reassure himself. He gets a brief touch, a flash of what Gabriel's been working so hard to bury within himself, before Gabriel is handing him the soap and turning around.

For a few seconds, they're both still. Then Gabriel twitches his wings at the joint and flexes one back just enough to graze low over Castiel's belly, and Cas lifts one corner of his lips in a small grin. "Come on, bro. They fucking _itch_ ," Gabriel says.

"They would itch less if you washed them more often, I think."

"More than once a century?"

"I believe so. I would be glad to lend a hand, if you want it."

Gabriel laughs. Coy really isn't his brother's forte, but he appreciates Castiel's offer and is prepared to tell him such when Castiel's fingers run firm and perfect over the remaining feathers. It isn't long before Gabriel is preening, shifting and struggling to remain still under his little brother's hands, feeling Castiel's Grace brushing over his skin with each pass.

"Fuck, Cas."

"As I said—I would be glad to lend a hand, whenever you need it."

"Good." Gabriel practically purrs as the ethereal grime washes away and when Gabriel next shakes his wings, as much as he can in the confines of the tub, they glitter a little brighter under the fluorescents.


	2. Chapter 2

_After the hole closes, after Cas heals him and admits that God had resurrected him, after Gabriel has found it in him to get to his feet, he tells Dean, "I'm going to get him back."_

 _Dean struggles to understand: this isn't what he wanted, but it's what they've planned and anyway, to open the Cage to get to Sam would just start this all over again and Sam wouldn't want that. Sam sacrificed himself to avoid it._

 _"There is a way to get to him and him alone, but it's a hard road and a long one. Dean," Gabriel tells him, his legs still barely keeping him upright and he falters for a moment, "I can't promise I'll get him back whole..."_

 _The promise he made to Sam reverberates in his head. "No matter what happens—what state he's in—you come find me."_

 _Gabriel nods and then he's gone._

;;

  
When Sam returns a few minutes after Cas and Gabriel start their together time in the bathroom (attempting, Dean thinks, to deplete the motel's supply of hot water), he finds Dean in their bed, tense and grouchy.

"Everything okay?"

"Angels," Dean growls, "are pains in the ass."

Sam lifts an eyebrow.

"Forget it." Dean runs a hand over his face. "We got anything left for breakfast?"

"Dude, I think I bought the entire menu at that place—there's food," Sam laughs, grabbing a glass from the counter. He's sweaty from his run and he wants, badly, to jump into the shower with Cas and Gabriel, but he knows better than to interrupt what sounds like a peaceful moment. He chugs his glass of water instead, strips down to his boxers, and rifles through his duffel on the hunt for fresh clothes, reminding himself to drag them all down to the nearest laundromat before the week is out.

He's caught off-guard when Dean nuzzles into the crease of his shoulder and neck. "Hey."

"Fuck, you smell good."

"I smell gross, Dean, and I'm all sweaty."

"Good," is growled into Sam's skin and he smiles, lets himself be guided to the bed and pushed down onto the sheets. Dean breathes into his ear, "Stay just like this. Don't move."

"Ok."

Sam can feel Dean's lips on his skin, the grin they make when Sam goes limp, and he can feel when Dean moves, kneeling over and straddling Sam. His thighs are still blanket-warm; Sam loves this, the early morning fuck with Dean. It's rare, usually Gabriel worms his way in and Cas sits back to watch and by the time they're done, everyone is panting. (And do not get Sam wrong, he has the best lovers and he doesn't mind—at all—when Gabriel climbs in between himself and Dean, but sometimes, it's just nice to be alone with Dean.)

Dean growls, drawing Sam out of his thoughts, then leans forward until his hands come to rest on either side of Sam's head. For a few seconds, he lingers there, as if caught up in something and Sam wonders if they should get up and check on the Angels in the bathroom, before Dean sets his teeth onto the back of Sam's neck. Licks over the salt of his skin and nips at his throat.

His back arches and his cock slides into the crease of Sam's ass, but Dean doesn't stop laying kisses along Sam's back, nipping here and there. He likes this with Sam, tempering himself and being gentle, and he wants it to last. He wants to draw it out, so when he finally gets inside, Sam will ride the pleasure instead of trying to control it.

It takes time and Dean murmuring, "That's it, baby boy, that's it," over and over for Sam to relent, relax, and even then, it's in stages. (Sam always fights this, not because he doesn't enjoy it, but because it means being vulnerable. Means leaving Dean a man down because the drop always hits Sam and makes him a fucking pussy bitch—in his own opinion, mind you—needing to be held for hours on end.)

"I wish you could see yourself, Sammy," Dean tells him, sliding Sam's boxers down and off, "Laid out like this..."

The noise Sam makes is somewhere between a purr and a moan, and Dean wishes, this once, he'd remembered to have one of the cellphones out to record it. He contents himself with petting Sam's sides, scratching his nails over Sam's skin; Sam's not into pain, not like Cas is or even like Gabriel is—Sam's spent most of his life riding the edge of fear, he doesn't need more.

His hands slide to Sam's ass, running the fingers of one between his cheeks to find slick already there. "Oh, Sammy," he mutters, "Been needing something here, hmm? Been filling yourself up with your own fingers?"

Sam doesn't answer, just blinks as his brain tries to catch up to the question and never really does.

It bothers Dean, though, that Sam'd, sometime between waking up this morning and leaving for his run, had taken his own release in hand instead of assuming Dean would take care of him. "When you come up, we're going to figure this out, baby boy. Do some of that talking crap you like so much..."

The bathroom door opens as he trails off and Dean glances up to see Gabriel wrapped in a crappy towel in Castiel's arms; Gabriel's eyes are wide as he takes in the sight, making Dean smirk. "See how good Sammy is, Gabriel?" Dean asks, as he caresses a thigh then takes one of Sam's shins in hand and guides it forward, under Sam. His hole is exposed and Dean ghosts a thumb over it, pushes the tip just inside.

The effect is instantaneous: Sam whimpers and pushes back, clenches the sheets under him. He's wire-taut, needy, and Dean feels a wave of guilt. Yes, they've definitely been neglecting Sam if he's this ready at a simple touch.

Dean snatches the lube from where he'd dropped it beside the mattress the night before and slicks himself in one quick pull over his cock. "Okay, Sammy," he says as he lines up, spreading Sam's ass wide with a thumb and forefinger and pushing in.

It's all of a few breaths before Dean's balls-deep, one arm coming down to wrap around Sam's hips. He pulls Sam up and back and into Dean's lap, forcing Sam's legs wide as they come down on either side of Dean's. "Go on. Fuck yourself until you come."

"I can come?" Sam asks in a rough voice.

"Yeah, baby boy, whenever you want. But you can't have my hands to help."

Sam starts to move, languid at first as if he's just waking up, then faster, until he's just about bouncing in Dean's lap in a way Dean thinks would be laughable in a porn but damn near glorious when it's Sam. The kid's desperate, and when he reaches down for Dean's hands, he grips them as tight as he can with a cry and says, "Can't... Please..."

"Yes, you can."

"I can't."

Wrenching a hand out of the vice-like hold Sam's got on it, Dean wraps it around Sam's jaw and tilts his head back, forcing Sam to stop moving. The kiss is hard, teeth clicking when they meet accidentally. Sam licks his lips once Dean draws back, obviously getting ready to say something—probably another plea for Dean to jerk him off—only to be cut off by Gabriel asking, "You said he can't have your hands. What about mine?"

Sam's eyes dilate a little further at the offer. "Please?"

Dean looks to his Archangel, to Castiel behind him, and finally nods. He knows that Sam needs time with him alone, but Sam so rarely asks for anything that even the tiny plea makes Dean want to pull the goddamn moon out of the sky as a reward. "Lube, Gabriel," he reminds and tugs Sam firmly onto his lap, then pulls him off. He sets the rhythm, directing Gabriel from over Sam's shoulder until Sam's arching and half-sobbing for release.

It's not like him, particularly when he wants it this badly, to not be able to come when he's got hands on him and a cock in his ass, and for a minute, Sam's actually a little worried. Then Cas is there and he's pressing soft kisses, chaste and simple, to Sam's lips and stars explode behind his eyes.

His vision whites out for at least a minute because when he comes to he's back down, he's on his side on the mattress with Dean behind him and Castiel in front of him. Gabriel is curled at their feet, looking content in his slumber, and Sam immediately starts to shake.

Fucking drop.

"Easy, man, I got ya'," Dean promises, stroking a hand through Sam's hair a few times.

Sam twitches in response and throws an arm over Cas with a complaint about being cold; Dean yanks the blanket up and over Sam, tucking the edges under Sam's shoulders before prodding Gabriel awake and guiding him up and behind Cas.

There's quiet for a few minutes as Gabriel situates himself, then Dean squeezes in close to Sam and says, "I should welt your damned ass for this, you know. Shoulda just told me what you needed."

His eyes are drooping already, and Sam mutters, "I knew you'd take care of me soon as you could," then promptly yawns.

Dean growls. Yeah, that's a problem because this shouldn't be a case of _Eventually, Dean will notice I need him_ \--Sam does not exist as an afterthought, even if this time he'd been lost in the haze of hunting and Angels. "No. Next time, you're gonna tell me if I'm being too dense to notice."

But Sam's fallen, trembling, asleep without hearing Dean.

;;

  
 _The next time Dean sees Gabriel, Sam is with him, looking all kinds of confused and completely unaware of what's happened over the last eleven months: he does not remember being trapped in the Cage._

 _Gabriel, Cas tells Dean and Bobby, remembers too much._

 _"He was down there too long." Cas runs a hand along his brother's forehead, fingertips slick with sweat when he pulls away. "He shattered."_

 _"Meaning?" Dean._

 _"Meaning he needs to return to Heaven now. Be cleansed of the sulphur and brimstone before he is lost to it." Cas rises, and touches Gabriel's hand, telling the men before him that he'll return as soon as Gabriel is well._

 _The thing is, they hadn't accounted for the turmoil they'd created above and once the two Angels stepped foot into the Garden, they were headed for disaster._

;;

  
They left the motel behind with some money thrown on the kitchenette table to both tip the poor cleaning girl for the mess they've made of the room and in repayment for the blankets they've stolen to pad the backseat for Gabriel. His wings are sore, an admission that'd made his guts twist in his belly, and now overwhelm everything. (He tries to remember if they ever felt this way before, if this was ever part of his Angelic existence or if this is yet another reminder of how fucked up he's become.)

"Gabriel, stop it!" Dean calls back, his eyes in the rearview and Gabriel looks back in surprise. Trust Dean to notice when Gabriel started scratching at a wing despite being unable to see said wing.

Gabriel grumbled something Dean couldn't hear in response, (thankfully, or Gabriel _knows_ Dean would've pulled over and spanked him right there on the side of the road), and twitched his wings against the seat back. The relief is instantaneous and he does it again and again until he's rubbing against the leather like a dog might on grass, a goofy smile on his face.

"Dude, the hell are we going to do with you?" Dean mutters, and flicks his eyes from the road to Cas and back to the road. "So Angels molt—there something we supposed to do for that?"

"No," Cas answers, "However, it would help if he could... stretch them."

"What? Like go flying?"

"That would be optimal, but not necessary." He runs a hand along Gabriel's neck and scratches at the joints, feels the shiver as Gabriel ceases to move and throws his head back with a moan. His eyes closed, Gabriel shifts closer.

Dean has to look away lest he steer them directly into the lake they're currently driving past and reaches down to adjust himself; Sam frowns, glancing back at Gabriel. He's less concerned with the incredible turn on Gabriel is at the moment and more the reality that Gabriel's in discomfort. Granted Gabriel's not in active danger, but he needs something and Sam quickly runs through the list of safehouses they know of, trying to think of one with enough cover that a man could safely go flying without being noticed.

"Cabin?"

Without acknowledging Sam, Dean hits the brake, whips the wheel, and bores down on the accelerator as he turns them toward Montana.

;;

  
 _Gabriel and Castiel are never parted. Even when Michael downs Castiel with one blow, even when Gabriel is forced to endure the pain of having his Grace torn at, even when they are both on their hands and knees at their big brother's feet, they are together._

 _This is where it starts. This is what they make themselves forget later, though the bond has been forged and cannot be destroyed._

 _When Michael tells Gabriel to submit to a future with Michael as King, as God, Gabriel refuses. He cries out from under the tip of Muriel's blade, that he'd rather be Banished._

 _"That can be arranged."_

 _Though tempted, Gabriel doesn't call his brother's bluff because even it would make Gabriel feel better to antagonize Michael, the reality is Michael doesn't bluff. Still, he knows what's on the table now and it's a little bit comforting that he has only two options—Death or Banishment._

 _Castiel surges against Raziel's hold, trying to break free and screaming, as Gabriel says, "I bow only to our Father, Michael, and you're not him. Banish me so I don't have to see you Fall."_

;;

  
It takes a little under seven hours to reach the cabin; it would have taken less if Gabriel hadn't needed them to pull over twice in order to vomit. Dean, of course, is now freaking out in his normal fashion: he's pissed at everyone for no reason at all, because this is something he can't fix with a .45 and a bottle of holy water.

Sam is calmer, still upset but calmer, and is quick to shepherd both Angels into the cabin where it's warm. He sends Gabriel to shower and sits Cas down, grilling him for information though there's little Cas can share—the molt is common, its effect on the Banished unknown.

"I have learned what I need to do to keep from reaching this stage." Cas chances a look at Dean who's pouring himself a small tumbler of whiskey and looking anywhere but at the two men on the couch. "Flight and rest should help, but what he needs will be largely based on instinct."

Instinct. Dean is starting to hate that word—he'd spent most of the drive thinking about instincts, how they've let him down with Sam and now Gabriel. (If he'd listen Cas more, he'd understand that one man cannot charge himself with the care of three others and expect to never have a failing. He's a beautiful, righteous human but he's human nonetheless and he can't do everything. At some point, they'd have to speak for themselves, and it seems that time is here because Dean's very near breaking.)

He knocks back his drink, downing it all, and watches Gabriel with contrition in his eyes as the Archangel moves through the room. Dean tries to imagine what his lover's wings look like—are they black like Castiel has admitted his own to be? Are the feathers soft or coarse?—as Gabriel walks by, shirtless and almost relaxed. An oddly shaped muscle in his back shifts and Dean thinks, _That's his wings_ , with a tiny bit of wonder.

Cas guides him out the door without so much as a by your leave to Dean and both Winchesters race out onto the porch after them. It's cold out and Dean wants to yell about jackets, even opens his mouth to when Cas turns and silences him with a look.

"It's all right, Dean," Sam promises, despite his own concerns. He reaches out to grip Dean's wrist and it's enough to keep Dean from running into the woods.

For a few terribly-long minutes, there's silence, then the snap and pop in the distance as trees sway and give and when Dean turns in the direction of the noise, Gabriel is clearing the top of a pine. He's looking skyward, heading higher, and Dean's heart twists in his chest and begins to beat faster, his mind completely convinced that this isn't just Gabriel going for a flight—he's leaving them, asking if his penance is done and he can go home and leave behind these three pitiful beings.

He starts again, pushing forward, when Cas puts a hand in the center of Dean's chest and tells him, "He's not going anywhere, Dean. Your family is safe."

Dean's anxiety is still up and his eyes still locked on Gabriel, but it's all washed away when Cas lifts his hand to touch Dean's forehead, letting him see Gabriel, for a few moments, as Castiel saw him... let him see why Gabriel had to push as high above the trees as he could...

It's overwhelming, seeing Gabriel with his huge, patchy wings stretched as far as they could, red and gold beating slowly to keep him aloft. The setting sun casts him alight, orange and yellow shading his skin; the low-slung jeans are an odd juxtaposition, one Dean barely notices when he catches sight of Gabriel's bare feet. The primaries shifted over milliseconds, involuntary movements to maintain his position and Dean wonders how Gabriel could ever have ignored them.

"Because he's our Father's son," Cas murmurs as he draws his hand back and Dean's vision is no longer clouded by feathers and sunlight, "Gabriel has forsaken everything in the hope that it would ease the pain of being Banished, but he cannot ignore it all. Not anymore."

Nothing more is said, nor needs to be—Dean wants blood in Gabriel's name (No one's ever said the word Banished before, only Fallen,) and Cas is trying desperately to keep his fear silent while Sam keeps his eyes on the Archangel flying in lazy circles overhead.

It's hours before he comes down, well after midnight; Dean's crashed on the bench near the door, but both Sam and Cas are wide awake when Gabriel climbs the steps to join them. He's pulled his shoes and socks back on; he's shivering from the cold now, the sweat on his skin from the flight making him uncomfortable and wanting for another shower.

He heads inside with Cas' nod, his shoulders loose even as his entire body buzzes with the elation of having been airborne for so long.

(In the air, he'd forgotten about everything that's been eating at him and known only the feel of his Father's touch on what he could see. It was, for a time, as if these last few months had never happened.)

Gabriel waits under the spray for someone to join him, but when he feels Castiel's pleasure tickle at the back of his mind, Gabriel smirks. He washes quickly, just to get the newly acquired grime off, and towels down in efficient strokes, like Dean's done for him before. Jeans on, shirt too, and he's moving through the small cabin to see who's got Castiel so riled.

The bedroom door is closed, thwarting that plan (he thinks), until he looks out at the couch and sees Dean sleeping on the couch. And while he'd love to break in on the action happening right under his nose—seriously, he can feel how Sam is moving against Cas—he walks to the couch instead and then crawls onto Dean.

Literally.

"You're like a damned toddler sometimes," Dean grouses, eyes still closed, when Gabriel goes to cuddle into his side and accidentally slaps Dean in the face.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize." Dean brings an arm up to wrap around him, admitting, "You know one day, He's going to call you back."

Gabriel shakes his head, glad for the darkness that keeps him from having to make eye contact with Dean. "No, He won't. Dad's not going to interfere—that's how it's always been and it'll always be." He buries his face into Dean's neck. "Besides, there was a time I would have followed my orders without a thought and a time I did just that. That's over."

Dean considers it a show of restraint that he doesn't do anything to give away how angry that statement makes him. Instead, he settles Gabriel more comfortably against his side and falls asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_Years at Dean's side, and Sam's, has taught Castiel this: there's always a way out even if you have to make one yourself. It's a lesson that rises in his mind when Michael finishes with Gabriel, his brother's throat too raw to keep screaming and his body too abused to do anything more than twitch. (Castiel is glad when Michael finally forces Gabriel out of Heaven, when Michael turns his attention to Castiel.)_

_He lets himself be half-smote right out of Jimmy's body, waiting for the right moment to turn and strike, to fight his way out. It means he will Fall; it means he will be cast out and Castiel breathes hard as the certainty of that sets in and he lets go._

_Life has always been infinitely better when he could walk the Earth._

;;

Dean wakes to the scent of coffee and freshly cooked bacon, Gabriel still passed out on top of him. He tilts up, hoping that Gabriel will slide off him, but Gabriel simply holds on tighter and Dean sighs, running a hand down the Archangel's cheek before kissing his forehead.

The smell of coffee gets stronger suddenly; Dean blinks in its direction, finding Sam there with a thermos. He hands it over, and tells him in a soft voice, "You, uh, were pretty zonked... Everything from the last couple of days, you sorta slept like a rock, but he was up and down all night. I think he had a nightmare—he won't tell me or Cas if it was—and he didn't really fall asleep until like an hour, maybe hour and a half, ago."

"Great."

"I figure that maybe if you can hang here for now, he might sleep for a while."

"Yeah," Dean agrees, petting Gabriel with one hand. "Wanna grab me some food though? I'm starving."

Sam nods as he moves away, listening with one ear as Dean shifts just enough that he can take a few mouthfuls of coffee without spilling it on Gabriel's head. He piles a plate with bacon and some of the hash Cas didn't finish, a piece of sausage; the shelves had been barely stocked when they'd left weeks ago, the basement freezer too, so their only choices for food were meat-based. At least until Cas returned from the grocery run he'd volunteered to do after he'd finished his own meal.

(It still freaks Sam out a little to see Cas eating, though it's one of the few things the two of them have bonded over—Sam enjoys teaching Cas to cook, showing him how to make all the things Dean likes and many of the ones Dean doesn't but Sam makes him eat anyway.)

He returns to the couch, settles himself on the coffee table, and balances the plate on his knees. "Bacon first or hash?"

"Have we met?"

Sam grins and passes a strip of bacon to his brother. The grease slides over Dean's fingers, his lips, and any other day, Sam would be sucking those fingers into his mouth, licking the grease off Dean, but Gabriel had inadvertently kept both Cas and Sam up as well—Sam'd love to curl up with Dean himself, and he will, later, when he can get Dean into the bed.

Slowly, the bacon disappears and the sausage link, and Dean starts in on the hash, fed to him in forkfuls, when Sam speaks again, "I did some thinking last night."

Dean doesn't say anything: he knows his brother and he knows Sam will go on without being told to continue.

"I know we're kind of used to moving around, I mean that's how Dad raised us—nomads—but Cas and Gabriel aren't so used to it. Gabriel gets carsick at the drop of a hat, Cas gets those rashes from the crappy sheets..." Sam sighs, "Anyway, we've talked about having a place to retreat to for a long time and it's time we actually did something about it. 'Specially after this." He pauses to fed Dean another bite of hash, and finishes, "I talked to Bobby before you woke up and he's fine giving us the deed to this place. I know it's not what we talked about, but it's secluded enough they can go flying whenever they need to and there's already some protections on the place. Basement's already set up for hunters, the back porch could be enclosed so Cas can have his quiet room..."

It's definitely not what Dean had had in mind when he and Sam had last discussed having a place of their own, but Sam's got valid points and really, having a place where Gabriel could regularly stretch his wings (Cas, too) would benefit them all. That's what sells him after barely fifteen minutes of thinking it over: his Angels need this, himself and Sam, too, if he's honest with himself. They've spent too many years treating the Impala as house and home; his lady's been good to them, but even she could use a place out of the elements.

Dean nods, tells Sam, "Okay."

He can tell that Sam had been prepared for more of an argument, that he'd probably written up a bullet-point list and done a powerpoint presentation on the pros and cons of calling the cabin theirs. His brother looks thrown off by the sudden agreement, but Sam's eyes light up after a second and Dean knows it's definitely the right answer.

They're not done hunting, not by any means—they'll probably fall prey to some monster or another in the end—but it makes Dean a little giddy thinking that for the first time since he was nearly five years old, he'll have a home of his own, Sam will have a place to build up a library like Bobby's. It feels good, the thought of Gabriel consistently able to find purchase on the winds over the cabin and Castiel to find peace in the room they'll make for him in the shitty screened area off the back porch.

Sam disappears while Dean is thinking, images playing behind his eyelids. (He thinks of the house[s] he'd lived in with Lisa and Ben, the things they'd done, and he sees it all replaced with the cabin and these other three men who've wormed their way in. He sees the place cleaned out and freshly painted, new flooring, and Dean is fucking grateful no one's looking in his head right now because he'd be forced to kill anyone who dared mention how absolutely maudlin he's being.) When he stops, it's to find Gabriel looking up at him.

"Morning," Dean says and Gabriel parrots it back.

He looks exhausted.

"You need to sleep more."

"I'm an Angel—we don't sleep." Except Gabriel totally does. That's been established every night since they found Gabriel in that fucking hellhole of a city, thank you very much.

"You sleep or I let Sam make you sleep. Up to you. Anyway, food in the kitchen."

Gabriel makes a face at the idea of food, knowing his beloved pancakes are not going to be on the menu, and lets Dean slide out from under him. He wisely says nothing of the thinly veiled threat that's been made and flops against the cushions, breathing in the scent of Dean from the worn-polyester. "I'm not hungry."

"Well, you're gonna eat anyway," Dean says from above, then orders, "On your knees, Gabriel."

A familiar, comforting order; it's rarely used these days, now that Gabriel is capable of eating though he's not always willing. He obeys without preamble, slipping to the floor to kneel at Dean's feet and lifts his eyes to Dean's as his lover sits onto the coffee table.

The hash looks disgusting in Gabriel's opinion and smells just as bad. He tries to dodge the first forkful, but Dean gives him a look that speaks of punishments Gabriel doesn't want to imagine so he gives in, opening his mouth to take in the bite. It's not so bad, which he'll never ever admit to. Still, he tries to prod Dean on, tries to get Dean to feed him faster, so he can dive for the coffee pot and wash the taste out of his mouth.

"You are not in control, Gabriel," Dean tells him firmly. (Talking may not be Dean's forte, but being blunt gets through to Gabriel, so Dean's had to learn that, unfortunately, speaking is sometimes necessary.) He continues to feed Gabriel until he feels a hand creeping toward his crotch. "Hands behind your back!"

A few minutes pass and Dean's almost sure Gabriel's done trying to be a pain in the damned ass when Cas comes banging through the front door, bags hanging off his wrists. It's an image that makes Gabriel wince and Dean hates—Domestic is not a word he ever expected to equate to an Angel, particularly to Castiel.

He stops inside, shuts the door, and when he turns back, he blinks at Gabriel. Like he hears something he's not sure of, like he sees something he hadn't expected.

;;

_Castiel took it, as Dean would say, like a champ. He's Fallen before, so it helps as he adjusts to his new life Earthside. He's not Banished, so he can still return if he wants to repent, has access to more of his powers than Gabriel does._

_Which is why he is able to hit the ground outside of Sioux Falls without it killing him and why he is able to then navigate himself to Bobby's._

_"Whoa, whoa," Dean announces when he falls through the front door, weak-kneed and asking to reach inside to touch someone's soul. "Let's get you on the couch before you go touching things."_

_It feels like it only takes a second to get him from the door to the couch in Bobby's living room, the worn cushions pitifully soft beneath him. He closes his eyes (and whimpers. No one in the room mentions it, thankfully,) and he nearly falls asleep._

_Sam puts a stop to that, when he announces, "You can touch mine."_

_"What?"_

_"My soul, Cas, you need to touch one to heal, right?"_

_That wakes Castiel up completely; it takes his mind a minute more to catch up and then he nods, and reaches out for Sam. He murmurs, "I will try to be as quick as I can."_

_"Dude, whatever you need." There's fear in Sam's eyes despite his cool words, knowing it's going to hurt like a fucking bitch. He sits back on the couch, back against the arm, and Cas surges forward suddenly, like a tiger pouncing. The surprise hits just before Cas' lips latch onto Sam, then pleasure, and while it's nice, it only partially bleeds into the pain._

_Still, it is quicker than the last time Cas did this to him and he pants through the aftershocks while the cuts and bruises heal in seconds. Not all of them—Castiel hadn't held onto Sam's soul long enough to completely get his fill—but enough of them that he doesn't look like he's gone three rounds in a roadhouse brawl._

_Silence stretches through the room, before Bobby asks, "Where's your big brother?"_

_"He's not here?"_

_"Not that I've seen."_

_He suddenly feels very cold._

;;

The rest of the day is spent with Dean and Sam off doing something secretive while Cas and Gabriel spend their time in awkward company. It's odd and Gabriel keeps trying to come up with reasons to go off by himself, claiming he needs a shower, then going out to fly so he can shower again, then volunteering to cook so he can investigate the basement freezer alone. He even claims he should look at Rufus' old library so he can weed out anything inaccurate.

It's kind of ridiculous.

It's also kind of adorable, like Castiel remembers Gabriel being a long, long time ago.

(Castiel's memories of Gabriel are like this: a half-manic, never still, Archangel, flitting around causing trouble, always smiling so their Father can know how happy he is, and trailing after his brothers with Blade in hand because there is no fight where Gabriel wouldn't be at his brothers' sides. How he plays tricks on Lucifer who teaches Gabriel one better. How his wings transform from white to red as time goes on and he battles Lucifer's forces back, his face twisted into a look of utter horror at what his own big brother has created; how he disappears after the Cage is closed, the feeling of loss ringing across Heaven.

Mainly though, it's the laughter he thinks of when he remembers: the laughter that came from lips curved into a smile that was rarely off Gabriel's lips.)

So it's got to be completely understandable when Gabriel fidgets on the couch, his leg bouncing as Pirates of the Caribbean plays on the TV and Castiel can't stop himself. He's kissing Gabriel, tongue sliding in at a corner, and wondering if they could make it to the bedroom where Dean and Sam have been holed up for the last hour.

One kiss falls into the next and the next, until Castiel is straddling Gabriel and the latter is panting hard.

"Where did you learn that?"

The smirk on Cas' lips is all Dean. "The pizza man."

Someone—Sam—starts laughing at that announcement and Gabriel flops his head back to glare at the man. "Thank you for ruining the mood," he says as he starts to push Cas away, only to have Cas hold firm.

"Oh, I don't think he's ruined the mood. Do you, Cas?" (Seriously, it's the same fucking smirk on both their faces!)

He answers, "Not at all," before locking his lips on to Gabriel's once more. It doesn't take long to get Gabriel panting again, and in short order, he's writhing up against Cas as he groans and tries to unzip his pants with shaking hands.

"Dude, you are always so fucking _eager_ ," Dean comments, settling in beside Gabriel. Glittering, blown-pupil eyes take him in, and Dean laughs as he orders Cas to back off, forces Gabriel to stand, and moves them both to the bedroom. There, in a chair in the corner, Sam is rubbing himself through the denim of his jeans, and Gabriel has maybe half a braincell to wonder if that means Sam is just planning to watch tonight. Gabriel feels a rush of lust at the thought: normally it's Dean who watches, but there's something downright arousing about Sam watching. He's not sure why.

He's forced down on the bed, hands pinned over his head for a moment before Dean draws back and then Cas is there, crawling over him, onto him. They kiss again and Gabriel's fighting the submission he feels creeping in at the edges; he flips Castiel, using his hips to pin Cas to the mattress and glances back at Dean who's standing at the foot of the bed. His fingers are glistening with lube which makes Gabriel grin.

"That's it, boy," Dean grounds out. This isn't how things normally go, but, fuck, it's hot and Dean isn't going to argue. He remains as he is when Gabriel turns back to Cas, watching to ensure they're both okay before telling Cas to settle and moving to kneel between two sets of legs.

He brushes his slick fingers against Castiel's ass, over his hole, with gentle strokes at first. He likes feeling Cas like this, muscles jumping at the casually intimate touch, but he knows how Cas feels around his fingers—tight and warm, and the thought alone makes Dean wishes like hell he could bury himself inside right then and there. It takes every ounce of his willpower to keep from pushing Gabriel out of the way to do just that. He draws out fingerfucking Cas, instead, until Cas is begging and Gabriel is growling, and when he pulls back, he knows that little more will have Cas coming.

"Pillow, Gabriel." A minute passes as Gabriel forces himself to make sense of the words, to get his arms to work again and he hands the pillow over with a curious look. "Lift up. You too, Cas. Okay. Back down," he orders, then wipes his hand over Gabriel's cock, unzips his own pants and adds, "Go on, Gabriel. Make him scream."

The first thrust is rough. Gabriel's fucking cross-eyed because yeah, he's been inside Castiel before, but it feels like it's the first time all over again. He thrusts again and Cas whimpers; the third time, he latches on to Gabriel's shoulders and Gabriel smirks.

It only takes a handful more thrusts before Gabriel has the headboard slamming into the wall and a few minutes after they get their rhythm, Dean has his precious screams, Castiel crying out words in English and Enochian and, Sam thinks, Aramaic.

Everything he says is something Gabriel understands though, if the way he cants his hips into the push and the way he kisses Cas between words is anything to go by. Then Cas is yelling something and Gabriel's gripping his hips with both hands, thrusting a few more times before Cas finally, blessedly comes. He rides the wave of his orgasm for long enough that he's not sure when Gabriel came, only knows that there's come on his thighs and he's nestled in beside Gabriel who looks wasted.

The sex-induced exhaustion doesn't last long. He smiles and nuzzles into Cas' neck, telling Dean and Sam to get their asses into bed; it's like the real Gabriel, the proper smart-mouthed Gabriel, and Dean feels like this is a milestone or a turning point, he's not sure which one. Either way, he knows they've finally surpassed some of the Archangel's issues, and he crawls into bed on Cas' other side.

;;

  


_Time passes slowly for Castiel in the days and weeks after he's Fallen. He lives in a constant state of frustration, trying to learn that which Dean teaches him while he worries after Gabriel. His only relief comes when he crawls in with Sam and Dean at night and falls asleep between the pair, dreaming of Heaven and Gabriel and a Father he loved once._

_He adapts, though. Quickly, he learns to not fear the feeling of exhaustion when it bites at him, learns how to operate the washers and dryers (though his suit and his trenchcoat are still eternally spotless), and how to select groceries (to Dean's chagrin—Castiel refuses to buy anything with added colors or high fructose corn syrup. But given that those things turn Cas into a walking welt, well, perhaps an Angel's system is a bit more delicate that Dean dares comment on.)_

_Dean teaches him to drive the Impala one balmy afternoon, Sam watching from a bench near the abandoned shopping center's main entrance; Sam's impressed with Dean's restraint every time Cas hits the brakes too hard and they come to a hard stop. Eventually Cas gets the hang of it, and Dean lets him drive back to the motel with the promise that there won't be any more hard stops._

_So when Cas sees Gabriel in an alleyway as they pass the edge of the city, he doesn't slam on the brakes... he yanks on the wheel, sliding the Impala in sideways on the road and slamming her to a stop against the curb. It is a maneuver that Dean wants to yell about but he's a little too stunned that Castiel, who has never actually driven a car before, has just done something Dean's been trying to perfect for years._

_Then he looks over and there's Gabriel, clinging to his brother's legs and Cas is looking back at Dean like he doesn't know what to do._

;;

  
Gabriel wakes first, curled up at the foot of the bed; he knows Sam and Dean have been working with Bobby to get the cabin transferred over to their names, and when they do, Gabriel's first order of business is getting a bigger bed. Still, it makes it easier to get up without bothering the other three and he pads over to his duffel on the hunt for clean underwear, scoops up his jeans, and heads into the bathroom.

By the time he walks outside, the sky overhead is still a perfect blue and he feels the need to fly like an itch in his wings at the very sight of the clouds set against the expanse. It only gets worse as he slips into the woods, pushing forward toward the clearing he knew was large enough for him to stretch his wings wide, big enough for him to push off the ground and take flight.

He's so lost in the feeling of need and want, he doesn't realize there's someone in his clearing until he's bumped right into them; he starts to apologize, pulling back and lifting his gaze from the ground to the person.

And he goes right to his knees the minute he sees who it is.

There's silence, Gabriel unsure what to say and the other not going to speak first—Gabriel needs to do that, needs to get himself righted—and for a long time, they just stay as they are... a feeling of limbo in Gabriel's gut and confusion and terror in his mind: he wants to flee, he wants to stay. He wants to grab on, he wants to get as far as he can.

His name comes hurtling through the trees, twigs snapping under what has to be someone running, then Gabriel hears his name again and that's Castiel without a doubt. (And where Cas is, Gabriel is sure Dean and Sam will follow.)

"Don't!" he yells back.

But they've already pushed past the edge of the clearing, three men all standing there half-dressed and clearly anxious, and Gabriel wants to tell them to leave. Only it's too late.

Instead he crawls until he can kneel directly between them and the man before him, and he gains the courage to say, "I'm the one who rebelled." He barely realizes when Castiel clamors to his knees, forces the Winchesters to do the same.

The man gives Gabriel a sad little smile. _As I knew you would. I've always known where you were, Gabriel, and where you were headed._

Gabriel keeps his eyes on the perfect blade of grass beside his left foot. He can't look up, he won't—if he's to die in this clearing, as he's sure that's what his Father is here to do, then in the very least he's going to save that last look at any being for Dean and Sam and Castiel. He'll look back at them when he knows it's going to happen, yes, that's what he's going to do. Last thing he sees before he burns, his lovers...

A hand touches his shoulder. _That is not what I am here for, my son._

"Then why?"

_To tell you that when you are ready, you will have your Reward, Gabriel. It is not what I'd intended for you, but you've chosen well, my son, and you will not be forgotten in your sacrifices._

It's not the same as being promised his powers back or even that he'll be a proper Angel, and he's not entirely sure what Reward means, but even if all he gets is his own Heaven with his mates, then it doesn't really matter. "Thank you, Father."

_Look at me, Gabriel._

An order so clear is never to be disobeyed, an old lesson, and he looks up at his Father's vessel, at Adam's face, and he can't help the question that tumbles from his lips, "Did you ever love me like you loved my brothers?"

 _I love every one of my children, Gabriel, you know that best of all._ He brushes a hand down Gabriel's cheek, two tiny scars disappearing under the touch. _I asked you four to look down at this world and love them like you loved one another, protect them, and for the first time, you chose your own path, away from your brothers and you loved these people, fought for them, when your brothers wouldn't._

Gabriel whispers, "I still love them."

_I know you do._

A scar on Gabriel's neck turns white and the skin knits and there's nothing there.

_When you are ready, Gabriel, until then, you know better than most where I am and how to find Me._

He draws back, and the itch in Gabriel's wings returns and in the next breath, he's got his arms wrapped around his Father, face mashed into the lapel of his black suit. "Dad," he murmurs.

_I am here, Gabriel. I never left. You were never alone._

Neither Winchester nor Angel ever discuss this again; they never speak of how strangely right it was for Gabriel to cling to his Father for those last few minutes or how much the hand that wove into Gabriel's hair had reminded Dean of how their own father used to comfort Sam. They don't speak about the words they'd heard from Gabriel, they don't ask what it is that Gabriel was promised.

They only know and mention this: when God (and how weird is it that they've now met the entire spectrum of celestial beings) finally leaves Gabriel standing there in the clearing on his own, Gabriel's wings were full and whole and for a moment, even Dean and Sam could see them.

;;

  
 _Gabriel sleeps for days and Castiel spends the entire time nearly frantic. He reaches out often to lay fingers on his big brother's head, hoping against hope that it's caused by something he can fix, but Gabriel's slumber continues on undeterred._

_"He'll wake when he's ready, Cas," Sam assures him three days in as he tucks a blanket around the Angel's shoulders. "He'll be okay."_

_Cas looks toward Dean, standing in the bedroom doorway, and beckons him over. Pulls him in and then Sam down until all four are crammed onto the cabin's small bed and he asks, in a voice Dean swears he will do anything to never hear again, "What if he's not?"_

_"Then we will do whatever it takes to fix him," Dean promises, "He's ours and we take care of our own."_

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a quick PWP for a friend and quickly blossomed into a work over 11500+ words. My friend was gracious enough to read over the final draft (following my massive edits); I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. :)


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